


Mother's Love

by Juliska



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 22:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliska/pseuds/Juliska
Summary: Post WotLK.  The soldiers of the Horde return to Orgrimmar from Northrend.  The Lich King is dead, so why does it hurt so much?





	Mother's Love

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this sappy thing for awhile, so enjoy.

_**Author’s Note:  World of Warcraft, all related characters, settings, and everything else is copyright Blizzard Entertainment.  Used without permission or profit.**_  
  
#  
  
“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”   
― J.R.R. Tolkien, _The Fellowship of the Ring_  
  
#  
  
“If it isn’t the heroes of Northrend,” Kirdika said happily as her children walked through the door, followed by their blood elf friend.  She threw her arms first around her daughter’s neck and then her son’s.  “I’m so happy you two are home.  I prayed for your protection every night.”  
  
 “We missed you too, mother,” Phogrim replied, hugging her and picking her up slightly off the ground.  How odd that her little boy was so strong now.  He grinned and set her back down.  “I only wish it had been the Horde that had taken the bastard down in the end.”  
  
“The important thing is that he’s gone,” Seneda said, working to take off her armor as quickly as possible.  Both of the younger orcs were drenched in sweat.  It was a blazingly hot day in Orgrimmar, and since the armor they had taken with them had been meant for Northrend, it must have been unbearable.    
  
“And the Warchief has ordered free beer for everyone!” Phogrim said excitedly, tossing his pauldrons into the corner.  
  
Kirdika shook her head.  She had hoped to spend a few hours with her children before they ran off, but . . . “All right.  Come back after you’re done.  And don’t drink too much.  It’s hot out.  You’ll get dehydrated.”  
  
The warrior and shaman grinned at her and started to walk out, past the young huntress, who was currently trying to pull her tabard off.  “Come on.  You don’t want to be late, Beli.  Someone will get the good kegs.”  
  
She finally extricated herself from the tabard and looked up from where she was sitting.  Her black hair was sticky with sweat and sticking out in all directions.  “Okay,” she said quietly.  
  
Kirdika watched the elf for a few moments.  While her children were giddy and laughing as they finished getting the heavy armor off and changing into civilian clothes, the blood elf looked . . . unhappy?  No, that did not quite describe what Kirdika saw.  The elder shaman had taken note as the heroes had paraded in that there were almost no sin’dorei or Forsaken among them. She sighed.    
  
“Why don’t you two run along?” she said quietly to Phogrim and Seneda.  “I think your friend could use a break.”  
  
“She’ll miss the beer,” Seneda replied.  
  
“I just want to talk to her for a moment.  Go on, now,” Kirdika said, giving her daughter a kiss on the cheek.  
  
“We’ll be at Mork’s tavern,” Phogrim said to the elf, stretching his shoulders and walking out the door.  “Don’t take too long.  Everyone wants to thank you too.”  
  
Belidora nodded as they walked out, then pulled her gloves off and tossed them on the chair.  Kirdika walked over to her and put her hand on her shoulder.  “Phogrim would talk about you in the letters he sent.  He said you did very well for your first major campaign.”  
  
The elf glanced up.  “I was just a courier,” she said quietly.  
  
“A courier for the High Overlord of the Kor’kron Guard, child!  I assure you, he does not trust his correspondence with just anyone,” the shaman said, rubbing the girl’s cheek.  “I’m very proud of you.  Would you like some tea?”  
  
“It’s a little hot outside, ma’am,” she said slowly.  
  
“It’s your favorite,” Kirdika replied, walking over and lighting the fire with a wave of her hand.  Within minutes it was done.  She poured a some into a clay mug and handed it to the huntress.  “How about you and I go for a walk?  I don’t get to spend much time with you, and it will be cooler where we can get some breeze.”  
  
She watched the elf’s expression carefully.  There was a slight bit of suspicion etched on her face, but she nodded and stood up anyway, following her outside.  The two of them walked leisurely through the Valley of Spirits and started climbing one of the ramps up the cliff face.  They walked in relative silence, but Kirdika would glance over every once in awhile.  The girl kept staring at the mug in her hands, as if waiting for it to cool, but the shaman was wise enough to know that was not the real reason.  
  
They got to an overlook and Kirdika sat down at the edge of it, patting the orange dirt for Belidora to take a seat next to her.  When the blood elf did, the shaman spoke, “Look at the crowd, my dear.  So many brave warriors of the Horde, all celebrating together.”  
  
The blood elf took a drink of her tea and nodded, staring out over the crowds.  It was a cacophony of noise and celebration below them.  After several moments, the young elf spoke.  “They look so happy.”  
  
“Are you not?”  
  
Belidora whipped her head around and stared at Kirdika.  “Of . . . Of course,” she said quickly, but the shaman heard her voice crack slightly.  She gave her a moment to set the mug down beside her and stare out at the crowd again.  Then the orc slowly reached out and put her arm around the smaller woman, putting her hand on her head and pressing it to her chest gently.  
  
“It’s okay, child.  I know,” was all Kirdika whispered.  
  
It took a few moments more, but soon Kirdika could feel the young girl shaking as her body was wracked with sobbing.  Belidora was much smaller than an orc, and the feeling reminded the shaman of comforting her children when they were little, which made it all the more heart wrenching.  She ran her hand through the girl’s black hair and just let her cry until she caught her breath.    
  
“I miss them so much,” she whimpered finally.  
  
“I know, I know,” Kirdika whispered gently, letting the girl grasp her robes pitifully.  She let her catch her breath some more for a few minutes before speaking again.  “Little peacebloom, you’ve kept this inside for too long, is all.  Eight years is far too long.”  
  
Belidora pulled back slightly until she was on her knees.  “Sorry…”  
  
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Kirdika said, putting her arm around her shoulder and pulling her into the embrace again.  Belidora rested her head on her chest.  “You know, you never talk about your family, Belidora,” Kirdika said.  When the girl started to balk at the question, she continued.  “Not how they died.  That is something that I don’t wish to know unless it makes you feel better.  I want to know what your mother and brother were like when they were alive.”  
  
It took a few minutes for the blood elf to respond.  When she did, her voice was quiet enough that it was difficult to hear.  “Mama was a tailor and leatherworker.  She was so good at it.  I had such beautiful dresses when I was little, even though we never had any gold.  Even the magisters and rangers would come by and have her make things for them.  She was the best in all of Quel’thalas.    
  
“After my father died, she and Nindrel and I moved out to Eversong Woods, in this little tiny house.  Stuff was always broken and I had to fix it in that stupid house, but it was safer than where we had been, at least for awhile. I’d go out in the morning and find herbs to dye her clothing and hunt to get more leather so we wouldn’t have to pay the tanner.  Then in the afternoon I’d take care of Nindrel so she could work.”  
  
Belidora stopped talking for a few moments, and Kirdika let her rest for a moment.  Still, it was important for her to get as much out as possible.  “How old was your brother?”  
  
She could feel the girl tense, but Belidora did not try to pull away.  Instead, after several more moments hesitation, she said quietly, “Seven.  He’d just turned seven.”  She rested her head on Kirdika’s chest.  “He was such a sweet, gentle boy.  I’d have to clean and tan the hides out in the woods so he wouldn’t see them, because the first time he saw it he cried.  He would have never been able to be a soldier.  He never could have killed anyone or anything.  Maybe a priest.  He seemed to have some magical ability, the first in our family in a couple generations.”  
  
She stopped talking for a moment, and Kirdika could hear her crying again.  “He was better than me.  It should have been me that died.  Not him.”  
  
The shaman sighed and hugged her more tightly.  After a few more moments she whispered to the elf, “Tell me, Belidora - where is it that elves go when they die?”  
  
The blood elf stopped crying for a moment and looked up at her, then lay her head back on her breast.  “I used to think to the Light, but . . . I don’t know anymore.”  
  
Kirdika smoothed back the girl’s hair as she talked.  “My mate, Zusu - Phogrim’s and Seneda’s father - died many years ago, during the Second War.  Seneda remembers him, but Phogrim only barely does.  Since then, I raised them, mostly in the internment camps.  It was . . .  difficult much of the time.  I did not know if I could do it, but I always had help.    
  
“You see, we realize that our loved ones never truly leave us.  They’re always here, watching over us, whether they go to your Light or to the trolls’ Loa or somewhere else.  It may be difficult to not have Zusu with me, but I never questioned whether or not he would be proud of how his children have turned out.  After all, in a way, he was with me the entire time.  Your loved ones are with you as well, even if you can’t see them.  It takes more than death to break that bond.”  
  
Belidora’s breathing had finally calmed down and she sat up, slowly extricating herself from the hug.  She wiped the tears from her green glowing eyes with the back of her hand.  “Th-thank you.”  
  
Kirdika put a hand on the girl’s face.  “Of course, child, but that’s not all.  Look,” she said, pointing back at the crowd.  The gathered soldiers were still in the midst of their raucous celebration.  “The Horde has welcomed your people in.  Yes, they fought for themselves and their families, but also in memory of yours.”    
  
As Kirdika spoke, not far from where they were sitting, an orc smashed one of his compatriots in the nose with his mug.  Belidora snickered, and Kirdika continued, slightly pleased with the young blood elf’s reaction.  “We may not . . . always get along, but families never do.”  
  
She put her arm around Belidora’s shoulder again.  “You know, Phogrim and Seneda talk about you all the time, as if you were their sister.  They love you a great deal.  They’d do anything for you.”  
  
Belidora glanced over at her before looking back at the crowd again.  “I love them too.  I’d do anything for them too, or for you, ma’am.”  
  
Kirdika smiled and kissed the blood elf on the forehead.  “I know, child.  And that’s good.  I’ve always wanted a second daughter.  I’m glad they found you.”


End file.
